


Tried and True

by Emptylester (timelordangel)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Omorashi, Smut, they need new couch cushions anyway, wyd dnp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 07:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9983267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelordangel/pseuds/Emptylester
Summary: Desperate. Overwhelmed. It's a good look.read the tags please!





	

Phil orders new cushions for the sofa, set to arrive Friday morning. He does not tell Dan.

Thursday morning, Phil shifts on the old, deflated cushions with stains and holes and god-knows-what shoved between them, and cocks his head ever so slightly.

“Hey,” Phil murmurs, kicking lightly at Dan’s foot.

It’s not often they play this game.

Dan looks up with waiting eyes, his attention Phil’s, always Phil’s.

“I’m going to make a drink,” Phil says so firmly, his voice thick with something that Dan can’t name. The words gather in the fine hairs on the back of Dan’s neck.

When he returns with a pint of Ribena, he places it only in front of Dan.

“Have you got any plans today?” Phil feigns nonchalance as recognition gathers in Dan’s eyes.

“No,” Dan says before taking a careful sip.

“Well good,” Phil says in a way that means _y_ _ou do now_.

It’s half past noon when Dan finishes the glass. He sets it on the coffee table with more force than necessary to gather Phil’s attention. Phil looks up from his laptop and through the smudged lenses of his glasses and takes notice.

“Good boy,” Phil smiles, his words soft and offhand in a way that kills Dan.

They go to the shops around four. Sunlight drenches London in the infrequent way it does, filling the city air with rare warmth. Phil thinks they should walk. Twenty paces from the shop doors, Dan stills and gives Phil a sharp tap on the arm to keep him from walking.

“You okay?” Phil whispers, unnecessarily.

“Yeah, fine,” Dan lets out a staggered breath, his eyes everywhere but on Phil, “we won’t be long, right?”

“No,” Phil promises with a smile that says something slightly different, “we’ll be quick.”

“You know, I think all pasta is the same,” Phil muses, running the tips of his fingers over the rows of boxes, “but there are so many different kinds. Want to try some multigrain pinwheels?” He turns towards Dan for an answer but finds his other half with a scrunched up face and a hand over his crotch.

“I don’t care,” Dan says, a bit breathlessly, “anything, anything.”

“Hey,” Phil says softly, “color?”

“Green,” Dan says immediately, “just get the fucking pasta.”

Phil lets out a stifled laugh and they leave the tucked away isle of pasta in favor of the dairy isle. Phil contemplates yoghurt for five minutes.

“Blueberry or cherry?” He finally narrows down his options, “Or… raspberry?”

“Blueberry, and two plain,” Dan’s a bit breathless, which earns him a look from the lady beside them. Dan feels his ears heat up as she doesn’t break her stare, and he’s suddenly sure she can see just how badly he _needs_ -

“Dan, I said come on?” Phil’s a couple meters away, like he suddenly teleported.

“Right,” Dan follows, keeping his composure until they see the checkout.

“It’s a little longer than I thought,” Phil worries, resisting the urge to reach ouch and give Dan a reassuring squeeze. Dan goes quiet and still the way he does sometimes when they play, when everything gets to be a little too much.

Phil substitutes the hand squeeze for a brush of their hips. Secret.

It is just about their turn in the queue when Dan lets out a small gasp from behind Phil. Phil turns in time to see Dan fighting to not double over with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“You can hold it,” Phil reminds him as he casually pulls his wallet out of his pocket.

“I can’t,” is Dan’s faint reply.

And then Phil is talking to the cashier, all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Dan hovers silently by Phil the entire walk home. It’s roughly half an hour’s walk with plenty of dogs and people to distract from the ache in Dan’s abdomen. Despite this, it is a walk Dan is thankful to see the end of.

“I’m going to go put the shopping away,” Phil informs after clicking the lock behind them in the small staircase of their flat.

“Yeah,” Dan nods, starting to follow him.

“Why don’t you go wait on the sofa?” Phil’s voice drops, “How bad is it?”

“Seven, eight maybe,” Dan is beautiful flushed, looking almost edible in the low light of the hallway.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute,” Phil smiles, ghosting his lips over Dan’s forehead before heading to the kitchen.

Dan leans against the wall for a brief moment with shut eyes; he lets out a staggered breath. Phil comes back to the lounge less than ten minutes later to find Dan sitting at the dining table with his head in his hands.

“Lovely boy,” Phil can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, “I told you to wait on the couch.”

“I can’t,” Dan whispers, not looking up.

Phil shakes his head and takes Dan’s hand, pulling it away from Dan’s face and then pulling Dan from his chair. They are eye-to-eye and Phil admires the beading sweat gathering at Dan’s hairline; he runs a thumb over the red patch on Dan’s right cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” Phil murmurs, leaning in for a kiss.

Their bodies go flush against each other and Phil grinds against Dan experimentally, just barely.

“Fuck,” Dan gasps, and Phil glances down on reflex to see if he’s let go.

It takes a second for a coin sized wet patch to appear, but it doesn’t worsen.

“Oh, you leaked. Come on, come here,” Phil ushers him over to the sofa, Dan teary eyed and spacey. “You’re fine, lie down.”

“Phil,” Dan whimpers, accepting his fate lying down.

Phil climbs over him and straddles his legs, gently sitting over Dan’s crotch. He leans down and presses his lips against Dan’s neck. Dan bucks his hips forward and Phil laughs against his throat. Phil goes down harder in response and nibbles at the skin beneath Dan’s earlobe.

“S-stop. Phil, I’m serious,” Dan says, a little choked up.

Phil stops and wipes at the tears gathering in the corners of Dan’s eyes. “Color?”

“Yellow,” Dan doesn’t hesitate, “can we go to the bathroom?”

“I bought new cushions,” Phil smirks, “they’re arriving tomorrow.”

Recognition flutters in Dan’s eyes and it looks a lot like relief. “Fuck.”

“Color?”

“Green,” Dan agrees, throwing his head back onto the cushion.

He closes his eyes briefly and Phil noses at his cheek. “Don’t fall asleep,”

“I’m not,” Dan corrects, “I’m trying not to piss on you.”

“Do it,” Phil braves, their dicks hard against each other beneath layers of denim.

“Um,” Dan has to swallow back what he was going to say because he is so hard and so full and Phil keeps pressing down.

“Come on,” Phil’s a little shaky, almost trembling with how turned on he is, “you can let go. Right here.”

“I’m, I’m, wow” Dan breathes, a stutter-stop symphony Phil adores from Dan when he gets like this. Overwhelmed. Desperate. It's a good look.

“Babe,” Phil runs his hands along Dan’s sides, pressing down just under his stomach.

“Phil, I can’t- I can’t. Not here,” Dan tries to explain, his words tumbling together.

“What do you mean?” Phil unbuttons his own jeans, hand slipping under the waistband quickly to tug at himself.

“My brain is not programmed for this, I can’t. I can’t,” Dan looks feral. Wild eyes, damp curls falling across his forehead. Flushed skin littered with red patches and freckles climbing over the soft pale landscape that is Dan.

“Just, don’t think about it,” Phil whispers, leaning down to circle Dan’s nipples with his tongue, “Think about me. Think about this. _Us_.” Dan closes his eyes again and tangles his fingers in Phil’s hair, soft breaths escaping from his mouth.

Phil feels it before he sees it. Warmth, seeping through Dan’s boxers and jeans and then through Phil’s jeans. Warm and wet and relieving. And Dan’s face- Dan’s face. It looks as though he is climaxing and being fucked at the same time; it is pure relief. Phil kisses him firmly, licking into Dan’s mouth and grinding against him as he goes. It is a solid minute and a half of pissing that creeps over Dan’s crotch and wets the hem of his shirt and most of the cushion. When he’s done, really done, Dan just lies there with this dazed look.

When Phil grinds down on wet denim once more, Dan comes in his jeans.

“Good,” Phil jerks him through his orgasm, ignoring the thought of what the inside of Dan’s trousers must look like right now.

“Good,” Dan breathes.

Phil considers not saying anything more, but this might be a once-in-a-lifetime-wait-how-often-do-people-buy-couch-cushions opportunity.

“Can I?” Phil almost whispers. It’s rare that Phil asks for things. Most of the time Dan just knows when Phil wants something, and if he doesn’t know, Phil will do without. When it’s something in the bedroom, Phil doesn’t ask- he orders. And that is their arrangement. But now, in the heat of the moment and the bliss of Dan’s aftermath, Phil asks for something. “Can I, go on you?”

“Y-yeah,” Dan blinks a few times and then nods, “yeah, of course.”

Phil doesn’t take the time Dan did before he’s pissing, not even bothering to take his dick out of his trousers. His eyes stay focused on Dan, who seems to be enjoying this. The piss trickles over them and then disappears into the fabric beneath, soaking in. There is something so dirty and irreparable about it, so hot that-

Phil finishes ten seconds before he’s coming on himself, his hand shoved down his underwear and his eyes clamped shut.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Dan laughs, grabbing at Phil’s shirt to tug their lips together.

“Wow,” Phil hums, collapsing back on the damp sofa. “thanks for indulging me.”

“Is this why you refrained from telling me?” Dan peels himself off the sofa, frowning at his soiled clothing.

“No, I just thought you’d be upset about your sofa crease,” Phil shrugs, “I just had this idea this morning.”

“Mm,” Dan rolls his eyes, “try new things, I suppose?”

Phil laughs loudly at this, light and love sparkling in his eyes. “Always. Let’s go shower.”

“And then you’re taking the cushions out to the bins-“

“Fuck you,” Phil giggles, pulling off his shirt.

“If you get the lube, I’ll start the shower,” Is all Dan says before disappearing down the stairs.

Phil closes his eyes and gives an upward glance as a silent thank you to whatever powers that may be that Dan Howell is here, and his, and into him.

And that will always be enough.


End file.
